


shimmer

by phidari



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Happy Dirkjake, M/M, Merman Dirk, Merstuck, One Shot, POV Dirk Strider, POV Second Person, Present Tense, Pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phidari/pseuds/phidari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A merman and a human find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shimmer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for [this prompt](http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/15805.html?thread=2544061#cmt2544061) in the Homestuck Shipping World Cup's Bonus Bonus Round.

Moonlight filters through the water, rippling and dispersing until it's nothing more than a dim glow, until it's gone. Your faintly bioluminescent scales are all the light you need; the currents, and the subtle water displacement caused by other creatures' movement, help far more. The sea is your domain.

Or so you tell yourself on peaceful nights like this. It's been a week since the last reminder that it's not _actually_ your domain, when a shark tried to eat you.

Something enters the water, something large and heavy. The ripples make their way from the surface down to where you're chilling. Debris, you assume, feeling a surge of annoyance at the humans who treat the ocean like their own personal dumping ground. You've been gathering garbage. Keeping it in a safe spot. One day, one day _soon_ , you're going to find a way to launch it back up on land. See how those assholes like it.

You flip your little merdude tail and shake your little merdude butt to propel yourself up to the surface and see what you have to take care of this time. Maybe a fucking barrel of radioactive waste. That'd be fun to throw back at them.

What you find, though, is just about the opposite of garbage.

A human boy stands close to the shore, waist-deep in the sea. The moonlight glittering off the surface illuminates his olive skin in an eerie, serene sort of way. He wades deeper in and then pushes off, treading water. It's clear he has no destination in mind. He's just swimming for shits and giggles.

It would be all right to head back down, now that you know there's no actual disturbance. But something keeps you in place just a few feet away from where he's hovering, splashing lightly, laughing to himself. He doesn't seem to notice you, or your eyes transfixed on his body, as he stretches and shifts his weight and moves into a lazy backstroke.

He's beautiful.

You follow as he swims further out, keeping a safe distance but never taking your eyes off of him. After a while he stops swimming and just floats face-up, a soft little smile on his beautifully-sculpted face. And then he turns his head and his gaze lands on you.

Your first instinct is to freeze. Predators underwater -- yourself included -- generally track by movement. But he shifts and begins to tread water, head tilted as he stares, and your conscious mind reminds you that humans rely mainly on eyesight. He's not freaked out or anything, probably because your tail and gills and webbed hands are safely below the surface. If he saw you in full, it would be a different story. You know from experience.

"I wasn't anticipating I'd have company," he says. Somehow the quiet tone of voice doesn't suit him, but all the same it cuts through the still night air like teeth through flesh.

You shrug in response, averting your eyes. Staring at him while he's staring at you makes your skin crawl.

"I'm not averse to your presence," he quickly amends. "I was just taken aback, is all. Were... were you following me?"

"Kind of? I was just curious, that's all."

"About what?"

You don't have a good answer for that. He doesn't pry.

He holds his hand out toward you. "Shall we?" When you don't reciprocate the gesture, he moves closer and reaches down below the water to find your hand. He stares down at it with his mouth quirked to the side -- at the webbing between your fingers that prevents his fingers from threading between yours. But he doesn't recoil, or shout, or demand answers. He simply pulls you close.

The shimmering moonlight echoes off the water as the two of you lose yourself.


End file.
